


Survival Guilt

by butterflyslinky



Series: The House of Wayne-El [8]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Daddy Issues, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul - Freeform, Medical Experimentation, Mpreg, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Planned Rape/Noncon, Ra's is creepy, discussion of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: It only takes one crack in the foundation for everything to come down.





	Survival Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> If I missed any tags or warnings, please tell me.

Vicky Vale smirked as she walked up the drive to Wayne Manor. An exclusive interview with Bruce Wayne and his husband, barely a week after their unexpected elopement. True, they had been a public couple for many years, with several children under their joint care, but it was still rather sudden.

And no one had ever gotten to interview them both together. Clark Kent had always preferred to fade into the press corps—not that Vicky blamed him, it was his place after all. Or had been.

The elderly butler led her inside and to a parlor, where Bruce and Clark were waiting for her. The house was suspiciously quiet—Vicky could never quite verify just how many children there were, but she knew there were at least five.

“Ms. Vale,” Bruce said with a false smile. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Wayne,” Vicky said. She pulled out her voice recorder and notebook. “I know you only granted one hour…I’ll try to be quick.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “No rush…he’s jist bein’ difficult.” He gave Bruce a hard look. “And he fergot t’account fer interruptions.”

“I told them all not to disturb us,” Bruce said.

“And y’know how well our kids listen t’that.”

Vicky hid her laughter. “And where are your lovely children?” she asked.

“Around,” Clark said. “In fact...excuse me.” He stood up and slipped out of the room.

Vicky’s brow furrowed. “What was that?”

“Parenting instinct,” Bruce said. “He has it, I don’t…suppose that’s what works.”

“Um…yes,” Vicky said. “So…Mr. Wayne, you’ve been together how long?”

“On and off for…twenty-five years or so,” Bruce said.

“Twenty-five years?”

“Yes…we met in college. But…well, as all young people do, we took some time finding our feet.”

“I…see.”

Clark came back into the room and tossed something at Bruce, who caught it with practiced ease. Vicky just managed to identify a pack of cigarettes before Bruce turned and locked them in a drawer.

“How many is that?”

“Sixth this week. Conner took ‘em this time.”

“And yet he lives.”

“Jason couldn’t catch him.” Clark sat back down. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vicky…teenagers, y’know?”

“Yes…” Vicky said. “So…I was just asking Mr. Wayne about how you met?”

Clark laughed. “Went t’college and followed him like a puppy.”

“And you’ve been together for twenty-five years?”

“On and off, yeah.”

Vicky shook her head. “And now…”

“On for good,” Bruce said. “Wouldn’t be fair to the kids otherwise.”

Clark laughed and shoved at Bruce’s shoulder. “Yeah, cain’t separate ‘em.”

Just then, the door opened and two boys stumbled in, the elder clutching a notebook above the other’s head.

“Father!” the younger one said in a demanding tone. “Make him give it back!”

“What are you even hiding?” the older asked.

Bruce sighed and stood up. “Sorry,” he said. “Boys, out.” He herded them out of the room. Vicky didn’t hear what he was saying, but he returned a minute later.

“They okay?” Clark asked.

“Tim and I are going to have a discussion about respecting people’s privacy later,” Bruce said.

“Good luck,” Clark said.

Vicky shook her head. “So…after twenty-five years and…how many children?”

“Seven,” Bruce said.

“After twenty-five years and seven children, what finally made you decide to tie the knot?”

Clark shrugged. “Figgered it was time. And it gives us more security.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “We are getting older…if something should happen to one of us, we want to make sure our kids are safe.”

Vicky nodded. “So…”

Clark held up a hand. “Moment.” He got up and left the room again. Vicky heard a few firm words, and a minute later Clark came back in, carrying a tiny child on his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said. “Jon’s gonna sit in fer a bit, that okay?”

“Of course,” Vicky said.

Jon glanced up for a second, revealing a tear-streaked face before he ducked back down onto Clark’s shoulder. Clark rubbed his back soothingly.

Bruce looked concerned. “What happened?”

“Cass was tellin’ a story,” Clark said. “And accidentally scared him.”

Bruce shook his head. “I’ll talk to her as well.”

Clark nodded. “Sorry…go on, Vicky.”

Vicky sighed. Clearly, she was not going to get through this uninterrupted. She steeled herself against just how adorable Jon was and plowed on with the interview.

*

Clark had to admit, the decision had been…hasty.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t discussed it in the past. Of course, when they first started it wasn’t possible, but laws had relaxed, and Gotham had just established legality the year before. And with their family the way it was, it was only natural.

Of course, they couldn’t give all the details. Couldn’t explain that three of their seven children were both of theirs by blood. Couldn’t explain why they kept coming back to each other. Couldn’t explain why they were reluctant to part now.

But after the Joker had almost killed one of their boys, after Jon and Damian had leapt into danger…well, they weren’t willing to wait any longer. So scant three months after that incident, their family resettled if a bit ruffled, they married quietly, at the manor with Diana officiating, and announced it to the press the next day.

Granting Vicky Vale an interview was a carefully calculated move. Give the public just enough information to satisfy them without actually telling them a damn thing. It was a bit odd being on the other side of an interview, but Clark realized he was going to have to get used to it.

He sighed as he looked over the fabric swatches and designer list that Alfred had discretely dropped on his desk that morning. Why did suits for a gala have to be so complicated? But he knew that this year, he wouldn’t get away with the same tux he had been wearing for the last five years—he was actually attending as a guest, not a journalist, on the host’s arm, there to play the loving and supportive spouse until one of the children inevitably faked an illness to get them (and Bruce) out of the evening.

He had just narrowed his choices when he caught the sound of Bruce shouting at someone. He didn’t immediately hear the other side of the conversation, so he assumed it had to be over the phone, and decided to tune it out.

That is, until Bruce came storming into the study, throwing his cell phone on his desk in fury.

“Careful,” Clark said reflexively before he looked up. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce took several deep breaths. “You know that Luthor was paroled last year.”

Clark bristled slightly. Luthor was always a sore subject for them both. “I remember, yes,” he said drily. “What about it?”

“Well,” Bruce said. “Somehow…and I tried very, very hard to shut it down, but I couldn’t manage it without spilling everything…he’s weaseled his way onto the guest list for the gala this year.”

Clark went pale, his breath shaky. In the last sixteen years, he had managed to avoid Luthor as much as possible, only seeing the man when there was a brief fight, fights that Batman or Nightwing were always present for. No one had broached the subject in years, the past a tightly kept secret between Bruce, Clark, Dick and Alfred. It was fine.

But the idea of facing Luthor in a social setting, where he couldn’t reasonably escape…

Bruce noticed his distress, of course. “You don’t have to go,” Bruce said. “I won’t make you socialize with that…”

“I have to,” Clark said. “This is our first public event as a married couple. If I don’t show up, there’ll jist be more questions…it’s a large event. He hasn’t figgered out my identity yet…I can always jist avoid him.” He swallowed heavily. “I’m more worried ‘bout you or Dick punchin’ him.”

“Tempting,” Bruce said. “Very tempting. And if he makes trouble, I won’t hesitate. But unless he does, I can’t be spilling blood on the dance floor…and I’ll make sure Dick knows that as well.”

Clark nodded. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “He won’t recognize us…I can git through one evening.”

“All right,” Bruce said. “If you’re sure…but if you need an out, I’ll understand.”

“Have Dick wrangle the kids,” Clark said. “That’ll keep him outta trouble.”

“I told Tim and Conner they could bring dates this year,” Bruce said. “Which will hopefully make them behave somewhat.”

“If they’re bringin’ Spoiler and Impulse, I see that leadin’ t’more trouble.”

Bruce blinked. “I…didn’t actually ask,” he admitted.

Clark closed his eyes. “Let’s hope Conner gits the courage t’ask Wonder Girl, or else Lex Luthor’ll be the least’a our worries.”

*

Bruce had always hated the Wayne Foundation Gala. For most of his life, it had just been him putting on a show of stupidity, flirting with beautiful women he would be happy never to see again, spilling champagne down the shirts of people he didn’t like.

Of course, now that he was well into his forties and married with seven children, he couldn’t exactly keep playing the hopeless manchild. Now people expected him to be at least somewhat competent, a good role model, or at least to yield to his husband in his stupider moments.

Bruce had to admit, they did make quite a pair in public, the hapless playboy who never grew up alongside the shy but straightforward farmboy. Both of them were consummate actors, affecting weakness and stupidity like a second skin, Clark’s eyes forever lowered behind his glasses, Bruce’s smile ever bright and false. He knew that to the outside world, they were the most mismatched pairing Gotham had ever seen; heck, he had even seen the tabloid articles betting on how long the marriage would last.

It made a good cover.

But walking into the gala this year was worse than usual. This year, Bruce had a husband to show off, five children in attendance, and an old enemy to face. It did not make for a very cheerful mood as he and Clark entered the ballroom, fashionably late as usual, the gala already in full swing.

They moved through the room, both slightly tense as they greeted various socialites and business contacts. Clark put on the best farmboy charm, Bruce played the careless playboy as usual, and it was fine. It was all fine.

Tim stumbled over to them, dragging a pretty blonde girl with him. “Dad, Papa!” he called. “Um…you’ve met Steph, right?”

Bruce hid his smile. As if he hadn’t spent the last year chasing her and Cass over rooftops, keeping them on form. “I don’t believe so,” he said. “A pleasure, Miss Brown.”

Steph smiled brightly. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” she said. “I just wanted you to know…I plan to marry your son one day.

Bruce blinked. “One day, maybe,” he said. “But give it a few years.”

Steph laughed. “Of course.”

“Run along, you two,” Clark said. “I know y’don’t wanna stand around with the adults all night.”

Tim and Steph took off, both giggling. Bruce shook his head.

“I think she’s good fer him,” Clark said. “He’s been a lot more relaxed this last year.”

“She’s trouble,” Bruce said. “But you’re right.”

A few minutes later, Conner appeared, a pretty blonde on his arm as well. “Dad, Papa,” he said. “This is Cassie Sandsmark.”

She smiled. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said.

“Of course,” Bruce said. “And how is Diana?”

“Very busy,” Cassie said. “She sends her regrets at having to refuse the invitation.”

“Well, I’m glad you could represent her,” Bruce said. “But I won’t bore you with the presentation I was planning to give her.”

“Thanks for that,” Conner said, giving Bruce a pleading look.

“Go find yer brother,” Clark said. “Before he changes his mind.”

Cassie laughed, though Conner looked like he was about to burst into flames as they slipped off to find Tim and Steph. Clark gave Bruce a look. “Try not t’embarrass him too much,” he said.

“I’m not trying to embarrass him,” Bruce said. “I really do have a presentation for Diana.”

“And this is Conner’s first grown-up date,” Clark said.

“Grown-up dates involve boring sales pitches,” Bruce muttered. “But fine.” He turned and led Clark on to the next group.

*

Lex Luthor stood at the edges of the room, scanning it.

It wasn’t by coincidence that he had manipulated his way onto the guest list. The rumors had been flying for years about the Wayne children—where had they come from, why had Bruce Wayne suddenly adopted so many, who were they to step into the life of a billionaire’s son? True, it might have just been charity, but why these boys in particular?

He had done his reading, of course. Looked into all of them before even setting foot in the manor. Seven children, as mismatched a set as any. Only five of them were in attendance, the youngest two still too small to be in society.

His eyes skirted over Wayne and Kent, moving about the room. The billionaire and the farmer…who would have thought that Bruce Wayne would settle for so low? Had Kent been charming, or even particularly handsome, Lex might have understood, but Kent was awkward, his accent atrocious, his glasses aging him far too much. And if the papers were to believed, it wasn’t some fairy tale romance, more a long series of strange circumstances that kept them together.

He looked past them to find their children. The eldest, Dick Grayson. Police officer in Bludhaven, an insatiable flirt, even as he stayed by the side of Barbara Gordon. Grayson was the most public of the children, often speaking for Wayne when his father wasn’t present. Handsome, charming, clever, but attention-seeking and arrogant. Disgustingly in love with Gordon, in spite of her defects. Terrifyingly loyal to his parents.

And something in his eyes was very, very familiar. Those sharp blue eyes, eyes that looked like they could look right through him. Eyes that Lex had seen full of pain and hate and anguish.

Lex saw the same eyes in the two teenage boys who skirted the edges, flirting with two pretty blondes. It was amazing how similar and yet how different they were. Their eyes were those same sharp blues that he saw in Grayson, their smiles very similar, their taste in women comparable. But one was large and loud, clumsy in his movements and awkward in his words. Conner Kent-Wayne did not strike Lex as being overburdened with intelligence, though he knew the boy was an accomplished athlete. Timothy Kent-Wayne was small, almost too small for his age, frail and pale under his too-long dark hair. He was quieter, almost a shadow next to his brother and their dates, though the papers often said that Timothy was known as the cleverest of the Wayne boys, academic accomplishments and rumors of an early career at Wayne Enterprises pervading the magazines.

Lex’s eyes slid to the last two. Jason Todd was known for being angry, and wild. A criminal child picked up off the streets, taken in out of some twisted sense of obligation. Mostly unknown, staying in the shadows next to his sister. Cassandra Caine was just as unknown, just as angry, with a similar past. The two of them looked over the ballroom as though searching for hidden threats.

They didn’t match the others. Wherever they came from wasn’t the same as the rest.

But those three…Grayson, Conner and Timothy…they were clearly blood brothers. And it couldn’t have been a coincidence that they had all ended up under Wayne’s care.

Not with eyes like that.

After all, where better to hide the sons of Superman and Batman than in plain sight, under the care of a rich man who could guard them well? And not just the sons of Batman. Conner and Timothy were very close in age; Lex wasn’t sure which was older, but they were both about sixteen years old.

He smiled to himself. Maybe he couldn’t be sure which just yet, but he knew one thing—one of them was not Batman’s son.

One of them was his. And Lex had a suspicion of which was which. He would have to check the birth certificates, of course, but really, it was obvious.

Disappointingly small and weak, perhaps, but Timothy’s intelligence made it clear. And Lex would get his son back, to destroy the mother and take his place in the new world order.

* 

Conner got through about three hours of the gala before Cassie got bored. She glanced around a few times before she tugged Conner out of the ballroom, through a hidden door and down a hall.

“Cassie?” Conner asked.

“Hush.” She pulled him into one of the empty rooms in the servants’ hall and shut the door before pushing him up against it.

“Cassie!”

She kissed him, hard and certain. Conner’s eyes widened for a moment before he kissed back, pulling her into his arms.

After a few minutes, he pulled back. “So…what are we?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie said. “But I like you a lot.”

“I…”

“I know.” She kissed him again, frantic and forceful. “We were made for each other, Conner…Superboy and Wonder Girl? Perfect pairing.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her this time, picking her up a bit. “Yeah, perfect pairing…I think…it will last a while.”

“Exactly.” Her leg hooked over his hip and she pushed up against him. “Now stop talking and kiss me again.”

Conner couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

*

Clark considered it a successful evening. He talked to a lot of people he knew by sight, met his sons’ girlfriends and approved of both, and successfully avoided Lex Luthor all evening.

Indeed, within a few weeks the whole thing was forgotten, the mounting threat of Darkseid taking up everyone’s attention. After all, what was one boring evening compared to the end of the universe?

Clark and Bruce were both run ragged over the following months, their older boys just a step behind. Clark had privately asked Dick to keep Tim and Conner out of it as much as possible, but he knew it was hopeless. After all, if Superman and Batman were running into danger, Superboy and Robin would always be hot on their heels.

He tried to believe it wouldn’t affect them, that it would all be solved as easily as every other threat. He tried to believe that their family would be fine, even as he knew deep in his soul that they wouldn’t. Not that anyone but Bruce ever knew. By day, Clark was still Superman, putting on bravery and strength like a second costume. It was only late at night, when Wonder Woman made them go home and rest, that Clark allowed himself to break in Bruce’s arms, that they clutched each other closer and loved each other as frequently as they could, that Clark allowed the exhaustion and heartbreak and sickness to overtake him, the fear and grief overpowering even him. Both of them knew that surviving this would be a miracle. Both of them knew that it wasn’t going to end well.

It took a year before it finally all broke, the last battle destroying so many cities and people, the destruction raining all around them as they fought.

Clark was never more grateful for his superpowers than in that brief moment when Darkseid’s final blast shook the Earth. He had never been more thankful that his boys had inherited even a fraction of it as he clutched Conner close, shielding his son just as Dick held Tim.

Bruce, though…Bruce was human. Bruce was reckless.

And Bruce was caught in the middle of it.

It took ages for the dust to clear, for the rubble to settle enough for what remained of the Justice League to start clearing it. As soon as it did, though, Clark was in the middle of it, frantically digging through it all for his husband. “Batman!” he called out, even though he knew…he couldn’t hear Bruce’s heartbeat anymore…

“DAD!” Tim was next to him, just as frantic, screaming for his father. They dug through the rubble, searching…

The skeleton was almost unrecognizable, the Bat symbol the only certain identification. Clark couldn’t see, couldn’t think as he fell to his knees, screaming in grief and rage, tears blurring his vision, head spinning in shock. He could just hear Tim scream alongside him, then Dick’s wounded cry, Conner’s gasp of shock, and he couldn’t think as he turned away and retched, unable to stop himself.

He barely noticed the gentle hand on his back, barely registered the strong arm around his waist supporting him. “Kal.” The voice was strong, but so soothing. “Kal, look at me.”

It took a long time before Clark caught his breath and looked at Wonder Woman, kneeling next to him. “I’ll take you home,” she said.

Clark shook his head frantically. “I cain’t leave him,” he gasped, accent beyond his control.

“Your children need you,” Wonder Woman said. “We will ensure that he is honored.”

“I…”

“Think of your sons.”

Clark glanced back. The boys were huddled together, Dick holding both of his little brothers tight, their faces buried in his shoulders. He looked at Clark, the same lost, grieving boy he had been all those years ago after the circus. A fresh wave of tears overtook Clark, guilt now mixed with grief. His children…their children…now without a father, Damian alone in the world, Jon too young to really understand…

Wonder Woman was pulling him up, practically carrying him. “Nightwing, follow,” she commanded, and no one could ever disobey her, no matter their mental state. She flew off, still holding Clark to her, supporting him. He couldn’t help but hug her like a child, seeking comfort in the only place he could. He didn’t look up until she landed in front of the manor. “Kal,” she said. “You need to stand.”

He took a shuddering breath and nodded, forcing himself to support his own weight. He heard the boys land behind them and turned. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice harsh.

Dick shook his head but couldn’t speak. He was carrying Tim like a child, but Conner was standing, shock seeming to carry him forward. He moved to Clark’s other side, offering his shoulder as support. “Thank you, Wonder Woman,” Conner said, his voice shaky but at least clear.

“Do you want me to come in?” she asked.

Conner shook his head. “I can take care of him.”

She nodded. “Call if you need anything.” She hugged Clark, and then Tim and Dick, and was gone.

Clark let Conner support him into the house, shaking too much to really carry himself. The house looked so odd, knowing that its master was gone. Clark faltered in the entrance of the Batcave. This was Bruce’s place, Bruce’s sanctuary. He allowed Clark there, of course, but it wasn’t _his._

Barbara turned as they entered and Clark knew by the look on her face that she knew everything. Dick put Tim down and was at her side in a second, falling to his knees and laying his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, making soothing noises as he started to cry on her.

Tim stumbled and Conner moved quickly, managing to catch him before he fell. Conner glanced at Clark. “I…I’d better put him to bed,” he said.

Clark nodded. “Put yerself to bed while yer at it,” he said.

“Should I tell Jon and Dami?”

“No,” Clark said. “Inform Alfred, but…but let the little ones sleep t’night. Let ‘em have another night not knowin’.”

Conner nodded and lifted Tim easily, carrying his brother upstairs to bed.

Clark collapsed heavily on one of the couches, feeling decades older than he had that morning. Barbara looked at him, but didn’t speak. Clark understood—there weren’t words to encapsulate the emptiness of a world without Batman.

Jason came in an hour later, Cass just behind him. Neither of them spoke. Cass’s face was just as tear-streaked as Dick’s, but Jason’s was blank. Clark had no doubt that there were several more people dead, but he didn’t have the heart to ask or even admonish Jason. Cass curled up at Clark’s side and he wrapped her in a hug, understanding she was seeking any comfort she could get. Jason only nodded once before he slipped upstairs, whether to sleep or guard the manor Clark wasn’t certain.

Morning was breaking. Dick had fallen asleep in Barbara’s lap, and her head had dropped and her hand went limp hours ago. Cass was still awake, but silent, staring across the distance. Clark couldn’t bring himself to move, or speak, or do anything except cry.

Kara came in as the sun rose, looking exhausted. “Cleanup is finished,” she said. “We’ve moved the dead back to various morgues…Batman is at the watchtower. We thought…we should let you decide…”

Clark nodded. “Thank you, Kara,” he whispered.

“Have you slept?” she asked.

“No.”

“Eaten?”

“I cain’t.”

She knelt in front of him. “Kal…I know it’s…it’s terrible, and you’ll always grieve him, but…”

“Don’t…” He struggled. “He ain’t even buried,” he finally said. “I need…I need t’grieve fer him. I dunno how long, but…”

“I know,” she said. “But you need to take care of yourself…you need to think of the kids.”

He glanced down at Cass, who was watching with wide, kittenish eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I ain’t strong…”

Cass laid a hand on his arm. “Strong,” she said. “Brave. Hurt.” Her eyes moved to Kara. “But both survive.”

She nodded. “Kal…no one’s saying you have to be strong. I just don’t want anything to happen to you, or the baby.”

Clark’s head jerked. “What?”

Kara blinked. “Um…the baby?” she said, as though it was an obvious fact. “You know…”

“No,” Clark said. “Yer…?”

“I’m not,” she said. “You are.”

Clark stood, reeling. “How can y’possibly…?”

Kara raised an eyebrow. “My chest has been growing for months,” she said. “I thought you would have noticed by now…I mean, I know this whole thing has distracted you, but…”

“I…I thought it was jist the stress,” Clark said. He stumbled to the medical area and sat down on a cot. “Can y’make sure?”

She looked through him, her x-ray vision telling her everything in seconds. “It’s true,” she said. “I’d say…three months. Maybe four. And he’s still healthy.”

Clark bent over, head in his hands. This wasn’t happening. He didn’t mean to have any more at all, and now, with Bruce dead and seven children already…

A minute later, a small presence was next to him, Cass hugging him. “Papa safe,” she whispered. “We keep both safe.”

Clark hugged his daughter back for a moment. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I need…”

“Sleep,” Kara said. “And then breakfast…I’ll talk to Jon and Damian.”

Clark nodded jerkily. “Don’t…don’t mention the baby yet,” he said. “There’s only so much a person can take in one day.” 

Kara nodded and pulled Clark up. He let her guide him upstairs and put him to bed. The grief and shock had already exhausted him, and Clark barely had the energy to curl his arms protectively around his stomach before he finally slept.

*

Going downstairs the next morning was torture. Clark could barely pull himself out of bed. If he lay very still and breathed very deep, he almost felt like Bruce was still there, that the space in the bed beside him wasn’t as vast and empty as it seemed.

But the feeling faded quickly, too quickly, leaving Clark feeling cold and alone. He forced the tears back again and got up. He dressed mechanically, putting his glasses on, the only shield he had against the harsh, empty world without Bruce.

The kids were all in the kitchen when he arrived, though none of them were eating anything. Jon launched himself at Clark immediately, clinging to his neck and crying more than Clark thought was even possible. Clark held Jon close to him, breathing deep to keep himself steady. At least his boys were safe. At least his babies weren’t hurt.

Clark looked around the room, still holding Jon. Damian’s face was a mask, but Clark could tell he was faking it. He had a feeling that as soon as Jon was out of the room, Damian would break down just as much. Conner’s eyes were hollow, like he hadn’t slept at all—he probably hadn’t. Tim looked just as bad, pale and trembling.

Dick and Barbara were slightly more put-together, but still disheveled and tired-looking. Cass was curled in the corner, her eyes dry and face clear. Either she was better at hiding emotions than Damian, or she was beyond the grief of tears.

Jason wasn’t there. Clark briefly worried, but realized that trying to keep Jason off the streets was going to be a bit more trouble than it was really worth.

Clark kissed the top of Jon’s head as he sat down, clutching Jon close. Alfred came over and set a cup of tea in front of him, moving slower than usual. Clark looked up, the guilt starting to overwhelm him. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  

Alfred nodded and faded back into the kitchen. Clark tried to find the right words to say, and had nothing. What could he possibly say to Alfred, the man who had raised Bruce, practically his father-in-law, to sooth this pain? How could he possibly make this all right?

He looked at his sons and his heart broke all over again. Sure, he had managed on his own before, but that was only with one of them, maybe two—how would he ever manage all seven of them plus the new baby on the way? And then there was the household, and Wayne Enterprises, plus Gotham…

Clark swallowed a few times before he spoke. “I…I know that this is…” He struggled, looking for the right way to discuss this.

“It’s shit,” Conner said. “It’s shit, and we have to fucking deal with it.”

Jon looked at Conner with wide eyes but Clark couldn’t bring himself to even reprimand him. “Yeah,” he said. “That…jist ‘bout sums it up.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. All y’all…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dick said, though the words sounded hollow. “You did everything you could…he just…no one could have saved him.”

“I could have…” Tim said.

“No,” Dick said. “This is bad enough without everyone in the damn world blaming themselves. Darkseid killed him and he’s the only person we’re going to hold accountable. The only question is what we’re going to do next.”

“It’s been eight hours,” Conner said. “I don’t think anyone can make decisions right now.”

“We have to,” Dick said. “Starting with what we’re going to say happened to Bruce Wayne.”

“Git him on a casualty list,” Clark muttered. “Missin’, presumed dead…however y’wanna spin it, jist git it in tomorrow’s paper, write a police report…we can make a show’a lookin’ fer him if we need to, jist make sure…”

“Got it,” Barbara said.

Clark sighed. “I’ll go into Wayne Enterprises…figger out how it’s gonna run now...”

The boys exchanged a glance. “Do you even know what Wayne Enterprises does?” Tim asked.

“It’s a…tech company,” Clark said, realizing that he didn’t have a clue. “Look, that’s Lois’s beat…far as I could tell, Bruce went in maybe twice a week and shouted at people and that was the extent’a his duties.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Dick said. “But that shouting often included important decisions.”

Clark sighed. “Look, I jist…never prepared fer this.”

Damian tsked. “Did you learn nothing from being a couple for twenty years?” he snapped. “You must always prepare for every scenario. I know he prepared to lose you and you are almost invincible.”

The guilt washed over him again. “I’m sorry, Dami,” he said. “I jist…somethin’ ‘bout him was invincible as well.”

“That does not excuse you from planning for every scenario,” Damian snapped.

“Damian!” Dick said sharply.

“I am only observing…”

“Shut up!” Conner snapped. “Just shut up, Damian! You’re not the smartest person in this room just because you were raised by a bunch of psychopaths and you don’t have the right to tell my dad everything you know at ten years old!”

“Do not presume that age gives one wisdom,” Damian snapped back. “And I believe that if you have not planned for every scenario, you should not be responsible for others’ well-being.”

“Like you’d fucking know!” Conner shouted. “You’ve never been responsible for anything in your life! Or did you plan every possible scenario when you took a five-year-old into a fight with thirty villains?”

“The experience was necessary,” Damian snapped. “And I am not proposing to take over a company I know nothing about while caring for five children. Though as the blood son…”

“We’re all blood sons,” Tim snapped.

“And we don’t get a say because we’re kids,” Conner added. “We can leave that to the heir to figure out.”

“Oh no,” Dick said. “I made it clear a long time ago that I am not stepping into Bruce’s shoes and I am not running that company.”

“Well, we clearly cannot leave it to Kent,” Damian said. “And I think I know where all of you got your brains.”

Conner jumped to his feet. “SHUT UP!” he shouted. “You’re not the only one who lost a father today and I’m sick of your attitude!”

“ENOUGH!” Clark said, standing as well. Jon was clinging to him, crying again. “When all y’all can act like adults, we’ll discuss how t’deal with ev’rythin’,” he said. “Til then, I need y’all t’remember that this is difficult fer ev’ryone and fightin’ each other ain’t gonna solve anythin’!” He gave them all a harsh look. “Dick, call the school and excuse yer brothers fer the next few days. Conner, go take a flight and calm down. Damian…” He stopped, shaking. “I’m sorry,” he finished before he left the room.

Jon waited until they were upstairs before he looked at Clark again. “I don’t like it when they yell,” he said, his voice small. “I don’t want Conner and Dami to hate each other.”

Clark buried a kiss in Jon’s hair. “They don’t,” he said. “They’re jist upset right now…jist like you. They jist express it diff’rently.”

Jon sniffed and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I miss Daddy.”

“I know,” Clark said. “I do too.”

*

Conner flew to Metropolis, anger and guilt coursing through him.

He did feel bad for shouting, for fighting with Damian when Clark and Jon were clearly in distress. And he did feel bad for shouting at a ten-year-old who had just lost his father.

He knew that they were all grieving.

But the worst part was, Conner _wasn’t._

He landed in one of the more secluded parks of Metropolis and stumbled to a bench in a corner, head reeling. Bruce had been dead less than a day, and Conner…

Conner didn’t feel anything.

Bruce had never been the best dad. Oh, he had tried, after Jason had died, but Conner knew something was always in the way, something always kept Bruce from loving him the same way he did the others. Always something between them, something that made Bruce look at Conner with pain and contempt. While Conner’s time as Robin had helped a little, in the last few years, they had been…colleagues, more than father and son. Their interactions were cool and professional, both in and out of uniform, and that was honestly the best it had ever been.

And now that Bruce was gone…Conner felt nothing but a vague emptiness. His sadness was all for his brothers and Clark. His anger toward Damian came from a place of guilt more than sadness.

Guilt because he couldn’t even muster an emotion when his father died. No sorrow, no relief, no joy, just emptiness that consumed his chest, overpowered everything else.

It was only then, the guilt filling in the blankness where grief should have been, that Conner found himself crying, silent tears that ran down his face faster than he could wipe them away. After a few minutes, he stopped trying and just let them go.

Someone sat down next to him. Conner didn’t look up until a soft cough drew his attention. He recognized the man next to him and bristled at once, but didn’t rise. He couldn’t blow his cover that way.

“Something the matter, Mr. Kent?” Lex Luthor asked.

“Go away,” Conner said.

“I don’t like seeing boys cry,” Luthor said. “It takes a very powerful force to make the strong so weak.”

“Tears aren’t a weakness,” Conner said.

“Are they not? They show emotions that are best kept quiet.”

Conner was quiet for a minute, but then realized it would be everywhere the next day. “My father...fell victim to last night’s attacks,” he said vaguely.

“I see,” Luthor said. He smiled slightly. “Would it help if I told you your tears are wasted?”

Conner glared at him. “My father…”

“Lives,” Luthor said. “But not in the way you’re thinking.” He was studying Conner very closely. “Yes…I see it now. I made a mistake…it happens now and then. But that’s my jawline…my ears…I suspect your smile would be similar if I ever get to see it.”

Conner stared. “What?”

“I knew the moment I saw you and your brothers who your…mother…was,” Luthor said. “You can’t hide those eyes, or that strength…I admit, I was a bit…confused at first. You and Timothy are so close in age, either of you could have been…forgive me for thinking it was him at first, but I wasn’t close enough to make out the identifying features.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Conner said, though his stomach was twisting.

“Seventeen years ago, Superman and I had what you might call an…encounter,” Luthor said. “I thought there must be a son after, but he prevented me from finding out until now. I found your records, and the timeline matched…and I want to offer you a home.”

Conner stood up. “You’re lying,” he said.

“Am I?” Luthor asked. He took a vial from his coat pocket. “Here…there’s a sample for you to match against, if you want to test it.” He handed it to Conner, who took it reflexively. “My offer stands, whenever you wish to accept it.” He smiled and walked away.

Conner stared at the vial in his hand. Part of him wanted to smash it at once and be done with it, forget what Luthor had said, what he had implied…

But something made Conner put the vial in his coat pocket. He wouldn’t test it, not so soon after Bruce’s death, not while his family was still grieving. He would just…wait.

Wait, and when the time was right, he would prove Luthor was lying.

*

Clark wanted to say it got easier, but it didn’t. A month passed, then two, and it hadn’t stopped hurting at all. He was showing now, the weight of the baby—Bruce’s last child—only making it hurt more.

It didn’t help that the rest of the household was falling apart around him.

Jason hadn’t come back since the first night after Bruce died. Clark knew he was still in Gotham, and he trusted Kara to know where Jason was, but he still worried.

Conner was withdrawn, snippy, barely speaking at all and giving Clark dark looks every few days. Clark wanted to ask why, but knew that doing so would only push Conner further way, so he simply allowed Conner to watch over Metropolis, and if Conner came back angry as ever, Clark wouldn’t mention it.

 Jon had barely stopped crying in months, and Damian was just as distant as Conner, shrouding himself in anger to hide his grief.

Dick and Cass were both trying to function. Clark knew that they were using the distraction of the coming baby to hide their tears, but he couldn’t be angry. He knew it wasn’t fair to lean on them so much, but he needed that support. He needed people he could trust to help him.

And Tim…

Well, Tim had never been one for moping. The last two months had seen Tim trying to take care of Gotham alone, ignoring any objections Clark called after him, knowing that Clark couldn’t go after him without risking the baby. Clark knew that Tim had powers, and Spoiler to watch his back, but he couldn’t help but flinch every time Tim came home, costume torn and slight bruises on his skin.

“You can ask fer help, y’know,” Clark said one evening after Tim came in.

“I’m fine,” Tim said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Tim…yer sixteen, and superpowered or not, y’cain’t keep Gotham safe alone.”

“Jason and Cass are out there…and I have to be there for him.”

“Tim…”

“He’s alive, Papa.” Tim’s eyes were blazing, defiant. “I know he is…we just have to find him, bring him home…once he comes back, everything will be fine.”

“He’s gone, Timmy,” Clark said, voice gentle. “I know y’don’t want it t’be true, but…”

“He’s not!” Tim said. “Look…I’ve been talking to…some people…and they told me…he’s still out there, and we can bring him home!”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “Which people?” he asked.

Tim looked down. “You wouldn’t approve.”

“If you’re going to the League again…”

“I have to…something about it wasn’t right. The body was destroyed, but his uniform was mostly intact…it has to be fake, somehow…for some reason, Darkseid wanted him alive.”

Clark was glaring now as he drew himself to full height. “Robin,” he said firmly. “I am taking you off active duty.”

Tim stared. “What?”

“You are behaving recklessly, chasing a ghost, and putting countless people in danger, including yourself. As the head of the Justice League, I am benching you until you have seen a grief counselor and they pronounce you ready to go back…I’m just sorry I didn’t insist sooner.”

Tim’s mouth opened. “But…you can’t do that!” he said.

“I can and I will, both as your boss and as your parent.” Clark’s face softened. “This ain’t a punishment,” he said, dropping out of Superman mode. “I know it’s rough on you…but y’gotta accept that Bruce is gone.”

Tim was silent for a moment before his jaw set in an expression Clark knew very, very well. “He’s alive,” Tim insisted. “And I’m going to bring him home.” He turned and flew out of the cave.

“TIM!” Clark called, but his son was gone.

Dick came creeping over from the computer bank. “What was that?” he asked.

Clark sighed. “Tim cain’t accept that Bruce is dead,” he said. “And apparently he’s turned t’the League’a Assassins t’find him again.”

“So…”

“So I took him off active duty…and he didn’t like it.”

“He won’t just sit home, Papa, you know that.”

“I know, but I can make it official so he’ll be brought home.” He sighed. “I know it’s a lot t’ask, but…”

“Bludhaven can look after itself,” Dick said. “Enough that I can put Young Justice on it.” He turned and walked to the back of the cave.

“Dick?” Clark watched, tears in his eyes, waiting…

A minute later, Batman was walking back into the cave. Smaller than Bruce, eyes slightly too bright behind the lenses of the mask, but…

“I…” Dick’s voice was shaky and uncertain. “Gotham needs Batman,” he said. “Robin…whatever he’s doing, he can’t keep guarding this city alone. I have to…”

Clark nodded. “I know.” He moved forward and embraced his eldest, holding him as close as possible with the baby in the way. “I’m so proud of you.”

Dick hugged him back, burying his face in Clark’s shoulder for a second before he pulled back. “I…I know you’re technically the boss now, so…I…” He took a breath. “Since you’ve taken Tim off duty…Damian is ten now…he’s old enough and…and being Robin might…it would give him an outlet,” he finished lamely.

Clark considered for a minute. “I…I don’t want him gittin’ hurt,” he said. “I know he’s highly trained and strong fer his age, but…”

“You know I’ll guard him with my life,” Dick said. “But…I can’t run Gotham alone, and I don’t know if Jason even wants to see me, and Cass and Spoiler have their own route...”

Clark nodded. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Y’can discuss it with him.”

Dick nodded. “I’m off, then,” he said. He hugged Clark once more and left the cave.

Clark watched him go, the tears falling faster now, his heart breaking at the men his sons had become.

*

Tim hadn’t returned by morning. Clark wanted to go look for him, but at six months pregnant he could hardly do so without drawing attention.

He waited all that day and well into the next night and there was no sign of him. In desperation, Clark wen to the roof, staring off over Gotham. “Tim,” he said. “I know…unless yer in a lead-lined bunker somewhere, y’can hear me. Please come home…come home so we can talk ‘bout this.”

There was no answer. Clark waited up there all night, wrapped in his cape, hoping Tim would hear and come back.

The sun was just rising when Conner joined him. Conner looked rather distressed as he rushed over. “Papa!” he said.

Clark looked up. “I was hopin’ Tim’d come back if I called.”

Conner sat down and wrapped his arms around Clark. “He’s not a dog,” he pointed out. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m alright.” Clark pulled away gently and wrapped his cape around Conner as well, allowing them to share the warmth. “I know he ain’t a dog, but…”

“He’ll come back when he’s ready,” Conner said. “What’s he chasing?”

Clark sighed. “He’s deluded himself into thinkin’ Bruce is still alive somehow…so he’s tryin’ t’track him.”

Conner blinked. “That’s…he’s going to get himself killed!”

“I know,” Clark said. “Soon as I can, I’ll go…”

“I’ll go now,” Conner said. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid…”

“No,” Clark said. “If Tim’s runnin’ into danger…I ain’t losin’ y’both.”

“So I’m supposed to wait three months and hope he doesn’t die before then?”

“I don’t like it either, but…I’ve already lost Bruce, Tim and Jason’ve run off, Dick’s put on the cowl…I cain’t take anythin’ else right now.”

Conner sighed and leaned on Clark further. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go in…Tim will come back. I know him…he won’t leave forever.”

*

Conner tried to put it out of his mind. He wanted to forget the conversation with Luthor ever happened, go back to how it was before the idea had been planted in his mind.

But it was always _there_ , every detail of the conversation, Luthor’s words about the features that had never quite matched, the sample vial hidden away in the back of an evidence refrigerator…

He managed to ignore it for almost three months, focusing on protecting Metropolis, helping Clark through the newest pregnancy, worrying about Tim being out in the world and Damian putting on a Robin costume…anything but the nagging doubt.

But it gnawed at him, deep in his stomach, in his very bones, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to prove once and for all it wasn’t true. So one day, he finally grabbed the vial from the fridge and took it to the lab. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to run the test, but then he was putting a blood sample of his own through the machine and waiting on bated breath for the results.

Hours passed before the computer beeped and Conner all but ripped the results off the printer, feeling his stomach drop as he looked at them

_Fifty percent match._

He stared at the paper, his gut roiling. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t be…

But deep in his heart, he knew it was. This was only the final proof…everything else slotted into place. Bruce’s hatred of him, the way he and Clark fought about him when they thought he couldn’t hear, Clark’s refusal to speak of the subject…

The tears started then, anger washing over him, at Bruce, at Clark…

“Conner?”

Conner turned. Clark was standing in the doorway of the lab, looking worried, and Conner didn’t care how hard the last few months had been, didn’t care how much Clark was already hurting.

“You lied to me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“You lied to me!” Conner shouted. He shoved the paper at Clark. “You fucking lied about who my father was for seventeen years! You let him raise and abuse me because you were too ashamed and you wouldn’t even tell me why!” He glared. “Well, I know now…I know why he hated me, and I…I can’t even hate him for it.”

Clark was looking at the paper, his face white. “Conner…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Conner spat. “I’m leaving! I never belonged here and I won’t stay in his house anymore!”

“Conner--!”

Conner didn’t wait to hear whatever Clark was going to say. He stormed upstairs and packed his bags. Let Clark stay here with the legitimate children. Let him look after Bruce Wayne’s sons with love and care. Let him show Damian all the kindness and forgiveness Conner had been denied.

It didn’t matter. Bruce was gone, and Conner finally had a father who wanted him.

*

Clark stared at the paper Conner had shoved at him, shaking. How? How had Conner known to even look?

But he knew the answer. Luthor must have found out about Conner, somehow…must have told him the truth, must have sent Conner looking, must have given him something to match against.

Clark stumbled back to a cot and sat heavily, the tears coursing down his face, his chest so tight he feared he would be sick, seventeen years of mistakes and missteps racing through his head. How had he messed up so badly that three of his sons had run away? How had he lied so long that Conner would do this?

He didn’t look up again until he heard the door open. “Papa?” Dick called.

Slowly, Clark forced himself to stand and go to greet his eldest. Dick had pulled the cowl back, but was still in uniform. Damian was just behind him, pulling at his hood. Dick noticed Clark’s distress at once. “What is it now?” Dick asked.

“Conner,” Clark said hoarsely. “He’s gone.”

Dick blinked. “What? Where?”

“He…he found out,” Clark said. “’Bout Luthor.”

Dick looked at Clark in pity and horror. “And now…”

“He’s run off,” Clark said. “He didn’t wait t’hear what happened…jist left the moment he had the results. And now he thinks…”

Dick moved to him and pulled Clark into his arms. Clark leaned on his eldest, clutching him close. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I know I ain’t great at bein’ a parent, but…”

“No,” Dick said. “You’ve done the best you can, for all of us…Tim and Conner…they’re young, they’re going through a lot of stress…both of them will come home…they will remember that you love them.”

Clark nodded and let go. “Thank you.”

Damian was watching them in consternation. “Will somebody tell me what happened?” he demanded.

Clark and Dick exchanged a look. “I’ll explain it,” Dick said. “You go rest now, Papa…should I talk to Jon as well?”

Clark nodded. “No more secrets,” he said. “From any’a ‘em.”

*

Conner took a deep breath and looked up at the house. It wasn’t much different from Wayne manor, yet it might as well have been a million miles away. After all, the son of Lex Luthor was bound to live a much different life than the bastard Bruce Wayne took in out of obligation.

He walked to the door, suddenly feeling very small. What would Lex be like? He knew that Lex and Clark were enemies-- _no wonder, look at how you turned out_ \--but that didn’t give him a measure of the man. Arrest records aside, who was Lex Luthor? Was he as evil as everyone in his family said, or were they all trying to cover their own guilt?

Conner steeled himself and rang the bell. A moment later, the door opened and a maid smiled. “Conner?” she said.

Conner nodded. “I...I wish to see my father,” he said.

“This way.” She led him up the stairs to a large study. “Mr. Luthor,” she said. “Your son’s here to see you.”

Lex looked up and smiled. “Hello, Conner,” he said, rising from the desk. “Mercy, you may go.”

She nodded and left the room. Conner stared at Lex for a long moment before it all hit him and he broke down in tears again.

Lex was next to him in an instant, opening his arms. Conner fell into them, hugging his father.

“There now,” Lex said. “You’re all right...you’re home now.”

*

Conner wanted to say it was easy to settle into his new home, but it would be a lie. The house of Luthor was large, but unlike Wayne manor, it was empty and silent. No one besides Lex and Conner lived there full time; the servants came in during the day and were gone as soon as dinner was finished. Conner had grown accustomed to having more people around, his brothers and Kara and Barbara, the other members of the Justice League and the Titans and Young Justice flitting in and out at random.

The silence of the house was cloying, almost unmanageable, but Conner forced himself to endure. He wouldn’t go back, couldn’t go back to the house of the man who had mistreated him so much, even if Bruce was dead.

He did miss his brothers, a bit, but Tim was already gone, and while no one had ever confirmed anything, Conner suspected that Dick had long known the truth and kept silent. Conner was angry about it, though he knew that Dick would never tell him anything that Bruce and Clark didn’t want him to know.

Lex found him the week after he had arrived, staring out the window of the library into the distance. “Is something the matter, Conner?” Lex asked.

Conner sighed. “I do miss my little brothers,” he said. “Or...well, my half and step brothers, I suppose.” He felt a pang at that. Damian wasn’t related to him by blood at all, Bruce’s own dirty little secret. Yet Clark had accepted Damian without question, Clark had forgiven Bruce for his transgression, Clark had never mistreated Damian like Bruce had treated Conner…

“Sons of Batman?”

Conner nodded. “The youngest is my half-brother,” he said. “The other one...Batman’s, but not Superman’s.”

“Ah, yes,” Lex said. “The legitimate sons...the ones who he loved and guarded.”

“Yeah,” Conner said. “But it’s not their fault.”

“Of course not,” Lex said. “It’s not at all their fault that Batman would treat them with so much kindness...he had plenty to spare...all the love he never gave you.”

Conner blinked rapidly. “It...it wasn’t fair,” he whispered.

“Of course not,” Lex said. “I imagine Superman never treated his sons this way.”

“No,” Conner said. “He...he loved Batman’s sons as his own...even the ones that weren’t his.”

“Superman has always been too forgiving,” Lex said. “Why, he even took Batman back after the way he treated you.”

“I...I chose to go back.”

“As a child...you were only thinking of others.” Lex gave him a small smile. “You didn’t really want to go back. You only wanted your brother to be happy, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Conner said.

“You got your generous nature from Superman,” Lex said. “But none of the selfish urges that would make you forgive a man for harming a child...none of the impulses that would let you go back to someone like him...none of the softness that would make you forget it all and take in your husband’s bastard.”

Conner swallowed. “They shouldn’t be treated badly because I was,” he said.

“No, of course not,” Lex said. “But it should never have been so different between you.”

Conner nodded. His chest was burning with anger and jealousy, though he tried to clamp down on it. “They...they deserve to be loved,” he said.

“More than you do?”

“No,” Conner said. “Not more than me.”

Lex smiled. “I love you, Conner,” he said. “Always...and I will never put anyone above you.”

*

It was only after Conner had been settled into his new home for a month that Lex broached the subject that had been hanging between them for so long.

“I am interested in learning which powers you inherited,” Lex said casually over dinner one evening.

Conner glanced up. “I could show you,” he said. “But I don’t want to take over the world or anything.”

Lex laughed. “Of course not,” he said. “That’s never what I wanted, either...I only wanted to protect Earth.”

“Protect it?” Conner repeated.

“There are two sides to every conflict, Conner,” Lex said. “I imagine Superman told you that I was trying to rule Earth for my own selfish ends...that I was dangerous and would only hurt people.”

Conner stayed silent.

“I don’t blame you,” Lex said. “But I am only an ordinary man protecting my home and birthright. And while I know Superman has been kind to you, it is difficult to trust that an alien like him really has the best interests of Earth in mind.”

“He grew up here,” Conner said. “He married an Earth man...his children are of Earth.”

“Yes,” Lex said. “He probably truly believes he is doing the right thing. But powerful men do not always remain good. They do not always do the right thing. He lied to us both for seventeen years...and that was one small thing. Who’s to say what he will do now, in his grief over losing Batman? Who’s to know what revenge he’ll take on you for leaving him?”

“He…” Conner tried to protest, but he remembered the scream of rage Clark had given at Bruce’s death, the lies he had lived with his entire life, how often Clark turned a blind eye to Conner’s misery.

“It isn’t your fault,” Luthor said. “You’ve never known differently. But you see how he could be dangerous...how easily he could turn on the world he claims to love.”

“I...I suppose.” Conner glanced at Lex, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Do you think I’m dangerous because of my powers?”

“Of course not,” Lex said. “Your powers are an unfortunate result of your genetics...but they are like any other gift we are given at birth. Something to be used and honed. After all, you have those powers...if you can use them correctly, you should do so.”

“I can control them,” Conner said eagerly. “I was Robin for a while...Batman didn’t like us using powers too much.”

“I’ve seen all the Robins fly,” Lex said. “The first one was free with his powers...I believe he still is as Nightwing.”

“Nightwing gets away with more than the rest of us,” Conner said.

“Oh, of course...Nightwing was Batman’s golden child, wasn’t he? Superman’s favorite son...the one who could do as he pleased.”

“Always,” Conner said. “But Batman told me not to use them...I have one the others don’t.” Conner realized he was bragging a bit, but he didn’t care. “I can touch things without...without actually touching them. We call it touch telekinesis...but Batman wouldn’t let me use it much.”

“It probably frightened him,” Lex said. “He probably feared what you could be...that your intellect would surpass his own, that you could overpower him easily if you knew the truth.”

Conner looked down. “Tim’s always been the smart one,” he muttered.

“Timothy is very talented, no doubt,” Lex said. “But his intelligence doesn’t translate into anything but arrogance...much like Batman. He never learned to turn it into anything special.”

“I didn’t figure this out on my own,” Conner said. “The TTK just...happened.”

“Show me.”

Conner swallowed and reached out with his aura, using the ghostly hands to lift and move various objects, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“Interesting,” Lex said. “Very interesting...I wonder where that came from.”

“I don’t know,” Conner said.

“It would be worth investigating,” Lex said musingly. “In fact...yes, I think we need to test this further.” He smiled at Conner. “Tomorrow, we’re going to take a bit of an excursion...there’s a lab I set up not far from here. We can learn so much more about you there.”

Conner nodded. “I...that would be good,” he said.

Lex’s smile grew. “Good,” he said.

*

Cadmus Labs were rather out of the way, tucked into a corner of Metropolis where very few people would have any reason to be. Conner was glad of it--he didn’t want Clark to be able to track him too easily.

Lex led Conner inside, walking with the air of a man on a mission. People nodded respectfully to them as they passed, staying out of their way. Lex led Conner down a dizzying series of corridors, through a number of doors, up and down staircases until Conner was quite lost. Finally, though, they went through a door in the back of the building, into a large lab with a table and a number of tubes and quite a lot of equipment set up. There were several men in lab coats moving around and Conner shivered a bit, pressing closer to his father.

Lex smiled and patted his shoulder. “It’s all right, Conner,” he said. “You’re perfectly safe.”

Conner nodded. “I know,” he said.

“Good.” Lex squeezed his shoulder briefly. “The tests may hurt a little, but you’re a strong boy.”

“I’m seventeen,” Conner said. “I’m not a kid.”

“Of course not,” Lex said. “And I know you’ll be very brave.” He nodded to the scientists. “He’s all yours...just keep me informed of the results. I’ll be right outside.” He smiled at Conner again and left the room.

Conner took a deep breath as he was led to the table. He stripped down to his shorts as ordered and lay down, closing his eyes and breathing deep as it began.

*

Whatever Lex said, the tests did not just hurt a little.

They hurt more than anything Conner had ever felt in his life. Every inch of his body was touched, examined, probed, tested. He wasn’t even sure what half these tests were--all he knew was that it _hurt_ , burning pain in his muscles and skin, like fire in his veins, like he was being ripped apart.

He didn’t know how long it was before they stopped and the door open. Lex came in, looking concerned. “Are you all right, Conner?” he asked.

Conner whimpered. “Hurts…”

“I know.” Lex petted his hair, smiling fondly. “But it will do you good in the end...it’s all to find out what makes you tick...how best to take care of you.”

Conner nodded, too exhausted to argue. The thought briefly crossed his mind that Alfred knew almost everything any human ever did about Kryptonians, and had learned it without all this, but he dismissed it quickly. Most of the information in the Batcave had probably been shared from the computer at the Fortress of Solitude--these tests hadn’t been necessary, and Conner knew no one would ever dream of giving Lex access to the Batcomputer to get the information he needed.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Lex said. “Let’s get you to your room here so we can continue in the morning.”

Conner blinked. “There’s more?” he asked hoarsely.

“Oh, love,” Lex said. “You are something almost entirely new...your bearer’s species is barely known to us, and half-human is entirely new. We have so much more to learn about you.” He kissed Conner’s forehead gently. “You’re doing so well...I know you’re strong enough to get through this.”

Conner nodded. “Okay,” he whispered.

He allowed Lex to help him sit up and dress. It took more effort than he had anticipated to stand, but he managed, leaning heavily on his father’s shoulder. Lex smiled and took him out of the lab, to a small room just down the hall. It was small and sterile and impersonal, but a little more comfortable than the lab. Lex set Conner down on the bed. “Rest now,” he said. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Conner swallowed. “I...I take it I won’t be going back to school next week,” he said.

“I think the rest of your education will be done here,” Lex said. “I doubt that one more semester with ordinary teenagers will do you much good.”

“Okay,” Conner said. “I just…” He hesitated. “I’ll miss my friends,” he mumbled.

Lex patted his shoulder. “When we’re finished here, I’m sure you’ll find time to see them,” he said. “But don’t concern yourself...young people’s attachments are often fleeting. The secrets you must keep from them...the lies...they couldn’t possibly understand.”

Conner bit his lip. “My…” He swallowed. “My girlfriend has superpowers,” he mumbled. “She gets it...I’d like to see her again.”

“And you will,” Lex said. “One day...but if she loves you, she will wait. If she truly wants you, she’ll understand you had to go away for a while.” He smiled. “Do you doubt that she would wait for you?”

“No,” Conner said. “No, I don’t doubt that.”

As he drifted to sleep, though, Conner couldn’t help but wonder. Cassie liked him, sure, but Conner also knew that Cassie would never put her life on hold for anyone. Conner knew that Cassie wouldn’t wait forever.

He felt something like a pang in his stomach, but he knew that Lex was right. If she loved him, she would wait. And if she didn’t…

Well, Conner had already lost everyone else. Why not lose her as well?

*

Dick sat on the clocktower, staring over Gotham, much as Bruce always had. Drama was, after all, an essential part of being Batman.

He barely flinched when the Red Hood swung up next to him and sat down. “No Robin tonight?” Red Hood asked casually.

“Batgirl’s training him tonight,” Dick said. “There’s nothing urgent and he has to learn from people who don’t have powers.”

Red Hood hummed. “You should let me take him out sometime...show him how the big boys play.”

“He’s ten,” Dick said. “I don’t need you reinforcing the idea that killing enemies is acceptable...plus Superman wouldn’t like it.”

“Superman isn’t his father.”

“He is Robin’s legal guardian for now...unless Talia plans to come claim him, and she’d have to get through Supergirl to even try.”

Jason pulled off his helmet and rolled a cigarette. “Doubt she will. Heard on the grapevine that things are a bit chaotic with the League” he said. “Word on the street is they have a new recruit.”

“Oh?”   

“Calls himself Red Robin...very interested in time travel and death and all that shit. Ra’s loves him.”

Dick was silent for a moment. “Do you know where he is?” he asked, his voice more desperate than he would have liked.

“If I did, I’d have already dragged his ass home. What made him decide to fly the coop, anyway?” Jason rolled another cigarette and passed it to Dick.

Dick took a drag off the cigarette without thinking about it. “Superman benched him...he’s convinced that our dad’s still alive and is looking for him.”

“Jesus,” Jason muttered. “I mean...it’s pretty hard to misinterpret a burned-up skeleton.”

“It’s the grief talking...I think he’s stuck in the denial stage.”

Jason took another drag off his cigarette. “Rumor has it that Superboy’s vanished as well.”

Dick sighed. It was not a topic he wanted to discuss anymore. “He...did Dad ever tell you about Kon?”

“I knew that was why he and Superman broke up, but he didn’t say much about it...most of the time I was Robin, he just pretended Kon didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, well,” Dick said. “Kon...learned that B wasn’t his father.”

“Wait...you’re telling me Superman cheated on Batman?”

Dick glared. “Of course he didn’t,” he said. “He was...Luthor raped him. And Kon was the result.”

Jason’s expression went from shock to horror in seconds. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “And Kon just found out?”

“Kon found out Luthor is his father...he didn’t wait to get details before he stormed out in a rage.”

“And you probably don’t know where he is, either.”

“It’s not that I don’t know...it’s that we can’t get in to see him.” Dick took a drag off the cigarette to steady himself. “Luthor’s taken him to Cadmus...God only knows what he’s doing, but we can’t exactly burst in and take Kon without evidence that anything bad’s happening.”

“Suppose not...and how’s Superman?”

“Not good...losing B rattled him, and having both Tae and Kon run off didn’t help...plus he’s pregnant again.”

Jason huffed out a breath of smoke. “Fucking rabbits.”

“Wouldn’t call five in thirty years excessive,” Dick said. “And they had that whole end of the world thing going on...I’m honestly not surprised it happened.”

“I am...of all the things a person should not be doing while pregnant, fighting Darkseid is about fifty of them.”

“He didn’t know until after...but now he’s alone, and pregnant, with two little kids to take care of and two missing teenagers...I’m honestly surprised he’s still functioning at all.”

Jason shook his head. “Never thought I’d be the sane one in this family,” he muttered.

“I’m…”

“Dressed like a bat and training a murderous ten-year-old to fight crime. Wouldn’t call that a healthy coping mechanism.”

“And what are you doing? Shooting people with the Outlaws?” Dick gave Jason a stern look. “Don’t think I haven’t heard about what you three are up to.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“That look...it’s fucking creepy, you know? Like having both B and Superman glare at me at once.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I exacerbated your rebellious teenage guilt.”

“We’re not...we’re all right,” Jason said. “We keep each other...stable, at least.”

Something in Jason’s tone told Dick there was more to it. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If you’re going to claim the title of sane, you’d better start.”

“It’s…” Jason struggled. “Kori’s as alien as you are,” he finally said. “But not...compatible with humans. We...me and her and Roy...stuff happened and...and it could have been something good, but it...didn’t work.”

“Oh, Jay…” Dick said softly. “I’m…”

“Probably for the best,” Jason said. “Roy’s got Lian already, and...I’d make a terrible father, and our situation isn’t ideal...but there were a few days when...when we thought that maybe…”

Dick pulled Jason into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Is Kori okay?”

“It’s not her first time,” Jason said. “But she’s pretty down...I guess that’s why we keep going too far.”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I can see why...with everything…”

Jason sniffed once and pulled back from Dick’s embrace. “We’re...managing,” he said. “And...she and I...we’re not anything...I don’t think it will happen again.”

“It’s not…”

“Don’t tell me it isn't my fault. I know that...we all know that. It was just...nice to imagine.”

Dick nodded. “Okay.”

Jason relit his cigarette. “How’s Jor taking all this?”

Dick shook his head. “Poor kid’s kind of gotten lost in the shuffle...Supergirl’s taking care of him more than anything, but…” He sighed. “I had to tell him and Robin about Kon...that wasn’t...it was a hard conversation.”

“He’s six,” Jason said. “How the fuck were you supposed to explain all that?”

“It was…” Dick sighed. “Well, he understands that Kal got hurt and B wasn’t Kon’s dad. Robin understood a bit more, and I suspect he explained it better.”

“And…”

“He cries a lot these days,” Dick said. “He isn’t functioning at all right now...but he’s still a child. I expect, once more time passes...once he’s gotten used to the way things are now…”

“He’s not going to be okay and you know it. You don’t just bounce back from having your father die...you add that and…”

“It was a better option than not telling him and having him find out on his own,” Dick said. “They did that to Kon and…”

“Yeah.”

“Batgirl?”

“She’s sticking around right now...I think as soon as the baby comes, she’ll go after Red Robin.”

They were silent for a while before Jason put out his cigarette and stood up. “I’d better get back,” he said. “Make sure Kori hasn’t set anything on fire in the last hour.”

Dick nodded and rose as well. “I’d better find Robin and Batgirl,” he said. “And...if you hear anything about Red Robin…”

“I’ll keep my ears peeled,” Jason promised. “But if you can’t find him with your enhanced senses…”

“I know,” Dick said. “The problem is that he doesn’t want to be found.”

*

Maybe it was the stress and the grief, or maybe Clark’s body had finally had enough when the pains started a month earlier than expected.

He barely had time to shout for Dick to take Jon and Damian out of the house before he was falling back on the bed, gasping in pain. Alfred and Kara were both by his side in minutes, Kara clutching his hand. “Breathe, Kal,” she said. “We’ve got you.”

He nodded, tears running down his cheeks. “I want Bruce,” he sobbed.

She petted his hair back. “I know,” she said.

The baby arrived within a few hours, small and squalling. Alfred passed him to Kara at once, who put him to her breast. “What shall we call this one?” she asked.

Clark looked at his son, still crying. This was it--the last child he would have, the last of Bruce’s house, the last Wayne who would ever be born. “Terrance,” he said. “Terry for short.”

Kara nodded. “<Welcome to life, Ren, son of Kal, of the House of El,>” she murmured softly. She looked back at Clark for a moment. “Are you…?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. He held out his arms as soon as Kara finished with Terry. “Leave me alone,” he asked softly.

She nodded and left the room. Clark held Terry close, weeping for the child who would never know his father, for the children he had already lost, for the line that had come to the end.

“Tim, Conner,” Clark said quietly. “I...I dunno if y’all’re listenin’ or if yer even in a place where y’all can hear me, but...I thought I oughtta talk t’y’all anyway.” He swallowed. “Y’all have another brother...I named him Terry. He’s...he’s small, but...I think he’s gonna be strong. Looks a lot like his daddy…” Clark was shaking. “I miss y’both...I wish y’all’d come home...it ain’t...I cain’t go on like this.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, but if they were listening, that didn’t matter. “Jon and Dami’re doin’ alright, but...I know they’re both hidin’ how much they’re hurtin’...they need help...need people ‘round...Dick’s tryin’, but he cain’t manage it all either...and Jason’s gone, and...I jist want y’all back...I miss y’both so much…” He was crying again, sending his plea to the wide world. “Please...come home.”

*

Conner swallowed heavily. He lay on his bed at Cadmus, listening to Clark talk to him. Another brother...another one of Bruce’s children. But there was no Bruce there now to give the child the affection Conner had always been denied...no Bruce there to take care of Clark…

“I’m sorry, Papa,” he sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry…”

The door opened and Conner jumped. He had forgotten, caught up in the news, that his room was monitored. Lex had assured him it was standard procedure, that he only wanted to make sure Conner wasn’t suffering unduly from the battery of tests he had gone through.

“Conner?” Lex said.

Conner swallowed. “I...I just heard that I have another brother,” Conner said. “Just born.”

Lex smiled tightly. “Well, I’m sure that your father will look after him well,” he said. “Raise him well, in Batman’s house.”

“I...I should go back,” Conner said. “Help out…”

Lex frowned. “I thought you wouldn’t go back again,” he said. “That they didn’t deserve your support...after all, they never supported you.”

“They’re still my family,” Conner said.

“I thought you were stronger than this,” Lex said. “Stronger than them...strong enough to make your own way in the world...too strong to let your sentiments get the better of you.”

“I am!” Conner protested. “Just...it can’t be easy for him…”

“He has Nightwing to help, doesn’t he?” Lex asked. “And Supergirl, and many other people, I’m sure. He doesn’t need you...he only wants to guilt you into going back. He doesn’t really want you there.”

“No…” Conner said. “That’s…” He wanted to protest, to say that Clark loved him, that he wanted to go home. But even as he tried to form the words, the doubt crept in. Why would Clark want him back? Sure, he’d want Tim back, everyone loved Tim, but Conner...he couldn’t miss Conner that much. Conner had always been overlooked, forgotten, the awkward too-loud middle child. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry, Father...it was a moment of weakness.”

Lex smiled. “It’s understandable,” he said. “After so long, I can see where you’d think he missed you. But you know it’s just his own guilt...that he didn’t really want you there, getting in between him and Batman.”

Conner nodded, swallowing his tears. “You’re the only one who really wanted me,” he said.

“Yes,” Lex said. “The only one who won’t turn you away.”

“Thank you,” Conner breathed.                                                                        

*

_He wants me here._

_He’ll take care of me._

_He loves me._

Conner kept telling himself that over the next several days. In all honesty, he had no idea how long he was in the lab this time. He wasn’t taken back to his room to rest, was instead kept on the table continuously, pain overtaking his body time and time again, with barely a respite in between.

He had no idea what the technicians were even doing to him, what Lex was doing. He knew that it was for his own good, for research, but that barely made it easier to endure. The pain only stopped when it grew so intense that Conner simply blacked out, unable to breathe or think or do anything but pass out.

Every time he awoke, Lex was there, soothing him, asking if he was ready to continue. Conner never said no, didn’t want to show his weakness, didn’t want to disappoint the one person in the world who still loved him. So he let it continue, let himself be used and studied and experimented on. It was fine. It was all fine.

Eventually, though, it ended. Conner was barely able to stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time now, but he managed to stand and let Lex take him back to his room.

“You’ve done well, Conner,” Lex said. “I’m very proud of you.”

Conner only whimpered in response.

“I know,” Lex said. “But this is necessary...once we know what hurts, we can make sure it never harms you again.”

“All hurts…” Conner sobbed. “Please…”

Lex rubbed his back soothingly. “It will end soon,” he said. “And in the end, you’ll be stronger than before.”

Conner could only cry, too tired and pained for anything else.

“I love you, Conner,” Lex said. “Now sleep...we’ll resume in a few days.”

“Please…” Conner begged. “No more…”

“Our research isn’t finished,” Lex said. “Don’t you want us to have the information we need?”

“I…” Conner could barely think. “Please stop.”

“It will stop,” Lex said. “It will stop when we’ve achieved the goal...it will only take a few more months.”

“No…”

“Would you rather go back there?” Lex said. “Go back to the people who never thought of your well-being, go back to the people who hated you? The ones who thought you were just a stupid waste?”

Conner shook his head. “Don’t send me back,” he said, suddenly frantic. “Don’t make me go back to them…”

“I won’t,” Lex said. “I won’t make you go back to being just another sidekick...I’m going to turn you into the greatest of them all. But I need you to trust me...can you do that?”

“Yes,” Conner said. “Yes, I trust you...I’m sorry I was weak.”

“You’re forgiven,” Lex said. “Now sleep.”

Conner nodded, no longer able to stay awake, and mercifully blacked out.

*

Clark tried to manage.

He knew that he was barely functioning these days, going through the motions of parenthood automatically. He knew that it was wearing on Jon and Damian, knew that leaving Terry in Kara’s care most days was unfair to everyone, knew that relying on Dick to pick up the pieces where he failed was completely unjustified, but it was honestly the best he could do.

Being back in the field helped, a little, though his patrols in Metropolis strayed closer to Cadmus than they had before. He knew Conner was still there, could hear him crying late at night, but the conversations between Conner and Luthor told Clark all he needed to know--that his son hated him and didn’t want to come home. He tried not to let it hurt, knew that Luthor was manipulating Conner, but it wasn’t enough to make the pain go away.

They still hadn’t found Tim. Oh, there were rumors, whispers, the occasional report of the Red Robin’s activities, but it wasn’t enough to find him. Clark knew that Tim was smarter than almost anyone else on Earth, that he had inherited Bruce’s stubborn nature and propensity for vanishing when he wanted to. And while Clark tried to tell himself that Tim would come home when he was ready, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

Cass was gone now as well. The day after Terry was born, once she was sure everyone would be all right, she was out the door. She left a note conveying that she was going to look for Tim. Clark wanted to be grateful, wanted to wish her luck, but his heart ached knowing that another of Bruce’s children was gone to the wide world without protection. Maybe Cass didn’t need protection, but Clark still worried about her.

More than anything, he missed Bruce. He missed his husband’s steady presence, his detective skills, his ability to make the boys obey him without trying. If Bruce were here, he could bring Conner home, he could find Tim, he could…

If Bruce was here, none of it would have happened. If Bruce was alive, their family would be whole and happy again. And Clark couldn’t be like Tim. He couldn’t abandon his family to chase a ghost. He could barely manage to live and work right now--how could he throw away what little he had left to indulge the grief-fueled fantasy of a lost teenager?

Dick noticed. Of course Dick noticed--Dick had always known when things were wrong. Six months after Terry was born, Dick cornered Clark in the Batcave one day when Clark was just getting back from a patrol.

“You’re not coping,” Dick said bluntly.

Clark stared at his eldest for a long moment. “No,” he finally said. “It’s...ev’rythin’ happened all at once and...and I cain’t…”

“Papa,” Dick said. “If...you told Tim he had to stop until he was able to handle his grief...that goes for you as well.”

“I’ve been off-duty fer months.”

“You were pregnant...you weren’t dealing with losing Dad.”

“How can I?” Clark asked. “I got three little kids t’take care’a, and I’m worried ‘bout Tim and Conner...when was I s’posed t’work out my feelin’s?”

“Right now,” Dick said, and it struck Clark, not for the first time, that Dick looked quite like Bruce when he made a decision. “I’m taking you off active duty.”

“Y’cain’t…”

“I’m Batman,” Dick said. “You may be in charge of the Justice League, but the role of Batman is to make sure you take care of yourself as well. And you need time to heal from everything.”

“I cain’t leave Metropolis alone...with Conner still under Luthor’s control…”

“We’ll cover it,” Dick said. “But you can’t go on like this.”

Clark tried to protest, but simply slumped in his chair. “Maybe I oughtta leave Gotham,” he said. “Take Jon and Terry and go back t’Smallville...maybe if I ain’t here all the time…”

“It...may not be a bad idea,” Dick admitted. “Here...you’re surrounded by Bruce. You can’t process losing him because...he’s not really gone.” Dick sat down, looking suddenly vulnerable. “I still feel him here,” he said quietly. “Dead or not...he’s still everywhere. It’s impossible to mourn for him when I keep finding bits of his life in places I didn’t expect.”

“I know,” Clark said. “I wake up in the mornin’ and it’s like he never left...I cain’t see or hear him, but I feel like there’s a ghost next t’me everywhere in this house...I jist…” He swallowed. “I know I cain’t take Damian outta Gotham,” he said. “But I dunno how Jon would react t’us leavin’...and takin’ Terry away from Alfred seems cruel...but I cain’t saddle you with all’a ‘em.”

“No,” Dick said. “You can’t…Jon’s not doing well, either. It…it may be cruel to separate him and Damian, but it seems worse to keep him here…and…Alfred might be hurt, but he’ll understand you can’t just leave your baby here…and you won’t be gone forever.”

Clark swallowed. “If I go now, it’ll be fer a very long time,” he said. “If I go back t’Smallville...I cain’t promise when I’ll come back. And...and I cain’t ask y’t’raise Damian by yerself because I ran away from my own feelin’s.”

“I’m not alone,” Dick said. “Papa...I’m not a child, and I haven’t been for a very long time. I mean...I’m almost thirty, with a wife and maybe children of my own soon. I’ll have Alfred and Barbara with me, and if we can’t manage, I know where to find Jason...and...and I know you. Once Tim and Conner are ready to come home...I think you will be as well.”

“It jist ain’t fair,” Clark said. “It ain’t fair t’ask you…”

“None of it’s fair,” Dick said. “And...it isn’t that I don’t want you here, because I do...I want our family to be whole again...I want us all to be happy. But we can’t go on like this...you can’t go on like this.”

Clark nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll...we’ll talk t’Jon and Dami...make sure they know that...that I ain’t doin’ this cause I don’t love ‘em...and if yer all sure...I’ll take ‘em and go.”

“Papa…”

“Yer right, Dicky...I cain’t go on like this.” Clark hugged Dick for a long moment. “I love you,” he said. “All y’all...I...I wanna git better...and if that means…”

“It’s okay,” Dick said. “And if we need Superman...we’ll call for you. I promise.”

*

Dick couldn’t help but wonder if they had made the wrong decision.

He supposed that was a part of parenthood, in a way, and he’d have to get used to it, but this was a bit more serious than figuring out which school to send the kids to or anything like that. Dick knew that Clark needed time to heal, space to sort out his head, and he didn’t regret sending him away to do so on that account.

He did regret the conversation that came with that decision.

Jon had cried--well, of course he had, he did almost nothing else these days. “I don’t wanna leave!” he said.

“It’s…not gonna be forever,” Clark said. “We need t’go somewhere else fer a bit t’work through things.”

Jon glanced at Damian. “Is Dami coming?”

“I will not leave Gotham,” Damian said. “I have my duty as Robin.” He studied Clark and Jon for a moment. “You should go anyway,” he said. “You both need to leave this house.”

“But why?” Jon asked.

Clark took a deep breath. “I miss yer dad,” he said. “A lot...we all do. And while I’m here, in his house, I think ‘bout him all the time...I don’t git to...t’process what happened so I can feel better. And I think the same thing’s happenin’ t’you.”

Jon sniffed a bit. “I miss Daddy,” he said. “And I do think about it all the time.”

Clark nodded. “So...if we go visit Grandma fer a bit...think that’ll help?”

Jon nodded back. “Okay,” he said. “Is Terry coming?”

“Yes,” Clark said. “And Cousin Kara’ll be by often t’help with him.”

Jon accepted that, but it was still a very subdued atmosphere around the manor for the next few days as they got packed. Dick tried not to cry when they left, tried to put on the same steady expression Bruce had always worn.

He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

The manor was quiet in the days following their departure. Damian was quieter and more surly than ever without Jon there, Alfred was more subdued than he had ever been, and with so many people missing, the house was beginning to feel empty.

Barbara found Dick a few days later, staring out the window in Bruce’s study.

“You didn’t have to send them away,” she said.

“I know,” Dick said. “But they couldn’t stay here.”

“And you can?”

Dick looked at his wife for a long moment. “Would you have us leave?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I’m just worried about you...you’re still grieving as well.”

“I’m not...I’m all right.”

Barbara moved up next to him and stared out the window as well. “Clark said he saw Bruce’s ghost everywhere,” she said. “And I see it too...but it’s not just memories.” She looked up at Dick, tears in her eyes. “You’re turning into him...maybe you already have.”

“Gotham needs Batman.”

“It’s not just the cowl, Dick. It’s everything about you...you brood and glower and make decisions for people thinking you know best. You make everyone else heal while pretending you aren’t hurting as well. You put on a strong face for Clark, and for Damian, but you can’t...I can’t be fooled that way. I know you too well.”

He stared at her for a moment before he collapsed next to her, the tears coming as he finally allowed himself to break. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t...I’m just trying…” He swallowed a few times.

She reached out and carded her fingers through his hair. “I’m not angry,” she said. “I’m just worried...I knew Bruce, and I know you, and...and you turning into him isn’t good.”

“I know,” Dick said. “But...I have to keep going for him...I have to be the son he could rely on.”

“What about the husband I can rely on?”

He sighed. “I know.” He kissed her gently and stood. “But right now...I am the Batman. Please...Barbara…”

“I know,” she said. “Just don’t get lost in that.”

*

Smallville was oddly peaceful.

After living with the chaos of Gotham and Metropolis for so long, Clark shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was still so odd to be able to simply…stop for a bit.

His mother was perfectly happy to have him there, of course, and she doted on her grandsons. Clark was happy to throw himself into working the farm in payment for them staying there, and most days, Jon was happy to follow alongside him.

He did listen in on Gotham, of course, make sure Dick and Damian were all right, track Cass across the city as she took over the leadership of Young Justice, strain to hear whatever was going on with Conner, keep an ear out for when Tim would finally call, but for the most part, he could simply be present in the rhythm of the farm.

He only regretted it briefly. But then he would see his mother coo over Terry, see Kara come by and be able to relax, see Jon finally start to smile for the first time in almost a year, and he realized that this was the right decision. Maybe it wasn’t ideal, but under the circumstances, it was the best life he could rebuild.

But late at night, he still thought of Bruce. Still missed him, and their family, even Gotham to an extent. He wondered if he would ever really let it go, if he would ever be content on his own.

But for now, it was all right. For now, Smallville was the best place for him, and until his other sons called him back, he would stay there and try to heal.

*

Stepping outside of Cadmus was a revelation.

Conner blinked. He had arrived here in the summer, August bright and hot. Now...now it was spring, cool and green.

“How long were we here?” Conner asked.

“Oh...eight months? Perhaps nine,” Lex said. “There was a lot of work to do.”

Conner stared. Eight months? Eight months of pain and torment, all for research?

“I...I didn’t realize…”

“I know it’s been difficult for you,” Lex said. “But you did so well...we learned a lot. Thanks to you, we’ve made more progress than ever before.”

“What kind of progress?” Conner asked.

“Protecting the world,” Lex said patiently. “Word has come down that Superman has vanished again...there can’t be another child coming, but he has once again left Metropolis unguarded. I wonder...to what end?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing…” Conner said.

“Perhaps not. But we still want to be prepared...and now that he’s gone, well...I believe this city is once again your responsibility.”

Conner swallowed. “I...I don’t think I can right now,” he said. “It still hurts.”

“Unfortunate,” Lex said. “Still, I suppose your weakness is to be expected...you were raised soft...soft and stupid, unable to reach your potential...no one was ever willing to push you.”

Conner nodded; over the last eight months, that sort of criticism had become expected. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll do better.” He swallowed. “I...I don’t have my costume with me,” he said.

“I’m sure you can find something,” Lex said. “Home by dark, all right?”

“All right,” Conner said. “I’ll be home by dark.” He took a breath and took off, flying for the first time in months, finally free of Luthor’s hold.

But something about it felt...wrong, somehow. Conner had patrolled up here alone before, sure, but it felt different, not having Clark nearby ready to help, his body still being in so much pain from the last eight months of experiments, not knowing who he was even fighting anymore…

Conner landed on the roof of the Planet, staring over his city. Eight months...all he’d heard from his family was that Terry had been born. After that, he was so deep in pain and exhaustion that he hadn’t bothered to listen for them. Not that he needed or wanted them in his life, but…

But they were his family. And he hadn’t listened for Cassie at all, or Bart, or Tim…

It briefly occurred to him that he could leave. Go back to Wayne Manor, rejoin his team, forget everything that had happened here. But the thought was dismissed as quickly as it had come. They didn’t miss him. If they did, they would have come for him already, would have called for him until he had no choice but to hear him. If Tim had wanted him around, he wouldn’t have left. If Dick had wanted to talk to him, he would have come.

And if Clark wanted him back, he would be here.

It took Conner barely two hours to realize he didn’t want to be out here, didn’t want to live the life of a superhero anymore. He shuddered a bit before flying back toward home and his father, a place where he could be safe.

Lex was surprised when Conner walked into his study. “Finished already?”

“I can’t do it,” Conner said. “I can’t be Superboy anymore...I can’t live the same way they did.” He swallowed. “Please, Father...give me something to do, just not that.”

Lex smiled. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Good.” Lex rose and embraced Conner. “I have a few prospects,” he said. “But I’ll need your strength and your loyalty...can you give me that, son?”

“I can.”

“That’s all I ask.”

*

Conner knew he should ask more questions. He knew that Lex’s motives were never entirely pure. He had grown up with that knowledge, had lived and breathed it for eighteen years.

But right now, he didn’t want to ask questions. Didn’t want to know what Lex was up to, didn’t want to know anything except his orders. Simple tasks--get some item here, drop off a message here, threaten the odd person who was getting in the way.

It was fine. It was all good. Conner trusted Lex, trusted that what he was doing was for the betterment of Metropolis, didn’t ask what any of the plans were.

He had been doing it for several months, acting as Lex’s general errand-boy, a decent enough job. Sure, there were a few times when it would get out of hand, when Conner would get in a fight, but it always ended with him triumphant. Whatever had happened at Cadmus seemed to have increased Conner’s strength, even though he still hurt, even after all this time. He supposed it was simply a side-effect of whatever Luthor had done to him and learned to live with it. There were a few days, at first, when it had been too much, when the burn in his muscles flared and kept him in bed for days on end, but it had mostly passed now, the bad days few and far between.

One of those bad days had just finished when Lex called Conner into the study. Conner was shaky on his feet, but he stood as straight and strong as he could. “You sent for me, Father?”

“Yes,” Lex said. “I need you to accompany me tomorrow...I am about to enter a very lucrative business contract and I want you to be involved.”

Conner blinked. “I...don’t know much about business,” he said. “That was always Tim’s area.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Luthor said. “Let the legitimate son learn all the useful skills...no use having you know anything.”

Conner looked down. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’ll teach you what I can,” Lex said. “Though mostly I just need you to make an impression...my contact wants to be sure of a loyal lineage. As long as you don’t make too much fuss, your muscles being greater than your brains shouldn’t be an issue.”

Conner nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” Lex smiled. “Wear the uniform...you may be meeting some familiar faces.”

“Yes, Father,” Conner said.

*

“Mr. Luthor.” Ra’s’ eyes gleamed unpleasantly. “How nice of you to join us.” Ra’s took Tim’s arm and pulled him to his side. “Have you met our latest member?”

Luthor’s eyes were hardly less evil than Ra’s’. “I believe I have,” he said. “Hello, Red Robin…and have you met my son? You’d know him as Superboy.” Luthor gestured and Conner stepped up.

Tim blinked. His son? But that wasn’t right, they were brothers…

Ra’s seemed surprised as well. “Your son?” he said. “A super?”

“Didn’t you know about these aliens?” Luthor asked. “They’re special…impregnating them is shockingly simple.”

No, no, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t happening…

“Is it?” Ra’s’ eyes flickered to Tim. “I didn’t realize it was possible. Well, that will make things interesting.”

No, please no. Tim looked at Conner desperately. What was he planning? There had to be a plan…

Conner met his eye, his face neutral. Tim didn’t know what it meant, and it was alarming to not be able to read his brother…if they were brothers…

“Very interesting,” Luthor agreed. “I do wish you luck…the Man of Steel broke so easily. I wonder how his son will fare.” He patted Conner on the shoulder. “But so far, the experiment has proved a rousing success.”

Conner’s jaw tightened slightly, so imperceptibly that no one but Tim would notice it. He caught his brother’s eye and started blinking out in Morse code: _What are you planning?_

Conner blinked back. _Nothing…I was joining him._ His jaw tightened further. _He proved he is my father…it explains why Bruce hated me so much._

_You know Papa would never betray him._

_I thought I knew._

“Do they need to be willing?” Ra’s asked.

“Oh, no,” Luthor said. “No, it’s all simple enough…and such fine, strong boys, aren’t they? Even the sons of the Bat.”

“I’m familiar with how the Bats grow,” Ra’s said. He was looking at Tim again, a new light in his eyes. “Perhaps in a few years, Timothy…you’re still too small, but I think with the proper care…”

Conner’s eyes were horrified, but he didn’t move.

“Do you really want to dilute the blood further?” Luthor asked. “I’ve been running tests...the half-breeds are strong, yes, but their powers aren’t quite up to standards...well...they weren’t. I’ve made a few improvements, though the side-effects are a bit...concerning.”

“If I were merely interested in raw power, it would be a consideration,” Ra’s said. “As it is, I think that a superior mind is more to my tastes...though I’m sure you’ve done well with this one.”

“Physically, anyway,” Luthor said. “I fear his intelligence is still not as high as I would like...still, we can’t always choose what our heirs become.”

“No,” Ra’s agreed. “We cannot...but that is not why we’re here.” He gave Luthor a smile. “Come...you and I have business to discuss...and I’m sure the boys would love a chance to catch up.” Ra’s and Luthor moved aside to a table, leaving Tim and Conner near the door.

As soon as they were across the room, Tim was at Conner’s side. “What the fuck, Kon?” he hissed.

“I know.”

“You’re joining that piece of--?!”

“I’m thinking.”

“I’m this close to getting Dad back, and you’re thinking.”

“Would you shut up about your dad for just a second?”

Tim stared in shock. “Kon…”

“We need to fight,” Conner whispered. “We need to get out of here before Ra’s decides to make good on his promise.”

“I need him.”

“Then before that asshole decides to do any more experiments on me.” Conner was glaring at Luthor with enough rage that Tim was afraid that the heat vision would start at any second.

“Why did you even sign up?”

“Because I didn’t know what he did to Papa...now I do.”

Their eyes met for a second and Tim nodded. “Okay.” He took his stance.

“Boys?” Ra’s called. “What are you…?”

“NOW!”

Tim and Conner moved as one, fast and light as they always had. The guards around the room moved as well and they were fighting, and it was almost like the old days, back when they were just Robin and Superboy, leading Young Justice, taking down another gang. Tim quickly lost himself in the rhythm of it, but he kept half an eye on Conner, who was going faster, harder, the anger in his eyes building.

It didn’t take long for Conner to cross the room. Conner caught Lex by the neck, ignoring the pain in his own body as he started squeezing, hard and unrelenting. Tim turned and caught the look on Conner’s face.

“PAPA!” Tim screamed. He knew Clark would hear, knew that they wouldn’t get out of this without help, knew that if no one came…

He barely had time to think before there was a whirl of red and blue, followed by a streak of black. Tim turned around just in time to see Batman literally throw Robin into the fray. Robin landed and rolled, his sword already out and slashing at the assassins around him.

Tim turned back to the fight, cutting through to get to Ra’s as Batman and Robin started taking out those still standing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Superman dragging Conner away from Lex.

“Kon,” Superman said, quietly but Tim could still hear. “Kon, let him go.”

Conner was screaming, rage and grief and shock all put together in one sound and Tim wished his brother would just _be quiet_ so he could focus…

“Red Robin!” Robin was running toward a passage Tim only knew about because of his x-ray vision. Tim turned and knelt in one move. Robin leaped on his back and he was running down the passage after Ra’s. He heard Batman call out for them but didn’t turn. He wasn’t going to lose his target this time.

*

Clark didn’t pay any attention to the fight. As soon as Tim screamed for him, he was there, Batman coming in a second behind him. Clark didn’t care, didn’t focus on anything but Conner.

He pulled Conner off of Lex just before the man passed out. Clark ignored him, pulling Conner into his chest. Conner was screaming, crying, and Clark couldn’t do anything but hold him close, comfort him as best as he could. He heard Dick shout somewhere in the distance, heard Tim and Damian take off, but he couldn’t look up, couldn’t move.

Conner clutched the front of Clark’s suit, sobbing into his chest. “Papa…” he gasped. “Papa, I…”

“It’s okay,” Clark said. “I’m here...you’re safe.” He looked over the destruction in the room and briefly considered handling the clean-up, but decided that he could leave it for later. “Let’s get out of here...we can talk somewhere quieter.” He took a deep breath. “Are you ready to go home?”

Conner looked up, tears still running down his face. “I...I don’t have one,” he said. “I don’t belong there...I don’t belong anywhere.”

“You belong with your family,” Clark said.

“I don’t,” Conner sobbed. “What he did...what I am…”

Clark sighed. “Smallville, then,” he said. He kept an arm around Conner as they flew off. Neither spoke until they were back at the farm.

They settled in the hayloft, private enough, though Jon would be able to listen in if he wanted to. Clark hoped he wouldn’t--this was going to be difficult enough to discuss with Conner, who was technically an adult now. Conner immediately curled up in a corner, still crying and shaking slightly.

Clark sat down next to him. They were quiet for a long time before Clark finally spoke. “I meant t’tell you,” he said. “When y’were old enough...I...I didn’t want y’t’grow up with that hangin’ over you.”

Conner swallowed a few times before he managed to sit up. “I spent my whole life thinking Bruce hated me and not knowing why,” he whispered. “I used to think...I thought it was something I’d done...sometimes I thought I deserved it. And now I find out…”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. “I shouldn’t’ve made y’grow up that way...I should’ve realized Bruce wouldn’t see past it.”

“Don’t…” Conner was shaking more than ever. “You shouldn’t apologize to me,” he said. “I’ve only ever made your life miserable...it would have been better if...if I wasn’t born at all.”

“Don’t say that, Conner,” Clark said. “Whatever happened t’me...what Luthor did…” He struggled. “I hate that it happened that way,” he finally said. “And I ain’t gonna pretend it was any sorta blessin’ in disguise or any’a that, but...I’m happy I got you. I love you, Conner...fer you, not fer where y’came from. And I’m real proud’a the man you’ve become.”

Conner stared at him. “In the last year, I’ve been a pawn for him,” he said. “I trusted him...let him use me...experiment on me...turn me against my family...I almost let him turn me into a villain...all of that after what he did to you. And when I found out, when he admitted it...I lost control. You had to stop me from killing him...how can you be proud of me after that?”

“I was listenin’,” Clark said. “And I know...he was manipulatin’ you...lyin’ t’you...doin’ ev’rythin’ he could t’make you his. This last year...I cain’t blame you fer anythin’ that happened.”

“Papa…”

“I mean it, Conner...I ain’t gonna hold an abuse victim responsible.”

Conner’s eyes flashed. “I’m not a victim,” he snapped, but his voice trembled.

Clark pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s okay, Conner,” he said. “It ain’t yer fault...none’a it’s yer fault.”

Conner struggled against him for barely a second before he collapsed into the embrace, crying again, and Clark was crying too now, clinging to his son like he was the last thing left on Earth.

Once they had finished, Conner pulled away. “I can’t go back,” he said. “Even without...I can’t live there again.”

“I know.” Clark sighed. “Jon and Terry and I’re stayin’ here fer now...we needed t’git away. I’m sure yer grandma wouldn’t mind havin’ y’here too.”

Conner nodded. “I’ll be out of the way,” he said. “I...I need some space...time to...process everything.”

“Okay.” Clark hugged him once more before he stood up. “Holler if y’need anythin’.”

Conner nodded and curled up in the hay. Clark pulled off his cape and laid it over his son as a blanket before he left the barn.

*

“Bruce.” Clark stared out at the stars, sitting on the roof of the farmhouse. The rest of the farm was asleep, the comforting rustle of wheat and animals surrounding him. “I miss you,” Clark continued. “A lot...more than y’can possibly imagine.” He looked down for a moment. “I got Conner back safe...but I lost the others. Tim’s taken Damian, who knows where...and Dicky and Cass’re chasin’ ‘em.” He breathed in deeply. “I know I oughtta go too, but...Conner needs me. After ev’rythin’ Luthor did t’him...I dunno if he’s ever gonna recover.”

The wind picked up a bit, but it wasn’t hard, just a soft breeze that fluttered through Clark’s hair.

“I know I ain’t doin’ very well,” Clark continued. “But...I’m tryin’. And I think...I think now, I can git better. I’m sorry I lost yer sons, but...but they’ll come home. I know they will. And when they do...I think I’m ready t’care fer ‘em by myself.” He looked up again, tears in his eyes. “I love you, Bruce...but now...I’m ready t’let go.” He half-smiled and blew a kiss to the stars. “Goodbye, my love.”


End file.
